Persephone
by tediz-leader
Summary: AU; Musician Kozmotis Pitchiner always takes the shortcut through the bad side of downtown to get to his apartment. One night, he bumps into someone he was better off not bumping in to. one-sided werewolf!BunnymundXhuman!Pitch Rated to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**I have a serious writer's block… I hope this helps me out…**

**AU: Musician Kozmotis Pitchiner always takes a shortcut to get home from work. One night, he bumps into someone that he would have been better off not bumping in to. werewolf!Bunnymund, human!Pitch**

**Warnings: creepy stalkerness, one-sided slash pairing of Bunnymund/Pitch, crappiness**

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Saturday evenings were a double-edged sword, and he was forced to walk among the blade barefooted.

Treble Clef was a famous, fancy restaurant and wine bar at the corner of Main Street in Downtown Burgess. The food and wine was top notch, with every entrée looking and tasting like it came all the way from the finest restaurants in France and the wine shipped from only the finest wineries in the world. Every weekend, from five in the evening until ten, a singer or musician would always perform and entertain the connoisseurs and business people as they dined and drank their fill. Kozmotis Pitchiner was a music instructor at the local community college and retired from some orchestra he used to play with back in Spain. Unlike most musicians that would perform at Treble Clef, Pitchiner was a regular. Every Saturday, at precisely 5:05, the raven-haired man would pull out his violin from its case and play a melody for the people, filling the usually-busy atmosphere with the sweetest melodies the strings would cry and giving the place a more peaceful ambiance. It was rumored that the only reason there was a bigger crowd on Saturdays were because of him, but Kozmotis was a humble man and credited the popularity of the restaurant on the day of the week and the wonderful food and drink. He always stopped playing at ten, collected his earnings for the night, and would put away his instrument before leaving the restaurant. Sometimes he would talk to the manager and pastry chef of the establishment if he wasn't busy, but more often than not the man left the place quietly to go home.

Pitchiner lived in the nice apartments of downtown, about a couple blocks away from the restaurant itself. Unfortunately, the usual street he took to get to Treble Clef was always packed with drunk or obnoxious people leaving the bars and ritzier clubs and cars from ten until about eleven-thirty, and he disliked large crowds and impatient drivers. Instead he took a shortcut that was only a block and a half away from his home, and took less time to get there since the street was usually empty. The only downside was that it was a seedier part of town with a large nightclub in the middle and a corner store at the end that has seen better days. Other shops were around the area, but they were only opened during the day. Sanderson Mansnoozie, the pastry chef of Treble Clef, would always scold him about taking that street to get home, seeing as the police had found a few dead bodies in an alley a few years ago. Accounts said the victims looked like they had been savagely mangled by a large dog, but no leads had ever been found. Pitchiner, however always waved it off, saying that he'd walked that street for a couple years now and the worst he had to deal with were a couple of drunks from the nightclub asking him for the time and a couple of women trying to sell certain services. He would be fine, or so he hoped…

Pitchiner sighed in exhaustion as he walked out of Treble Clef's warm, welcoming atmosphere and into the cold, windy February night. He shivered and tied his mustard-yellow scarf around his neck before walking down the sidewalk and turning the corner. The major shift in scenery from Main Street to Monkshood Drive was very apparent. Main Street was well-lit and free of graffiti, with the street-lamps showering everything in a golden glow. The buildings, though some still had a classic look, were well-kept and always bustling with people and a few security guards. Monkshood Drive was the total opposite; the brick walls where old shops had closed down were laden with graffiti, like weeds overtaking an abandoned garden. Only three streetlights functioned well, the other five either didn't work, or would flicker randomly. The main sources of light on the street were the lights bleeding through the shops' windows or the large, red neon sign from the large nightclub in the middle. It was called The Poisoned Apple, with music loud enough to be heard from outside. There were always two bouncers at the closed, wooden doors, but there was never a line to go in and he had never seen someone step out. Kozmotis never paid them any mind, and the two large men did nothing to him other than steal a small glance. Tonight, however, was different. As Kozmotis started to pass by the first alleyway between a tailor shop and the nightclub, his shoulder caught someone's arm. He stopped abruptly, swinging his violin case behind him so as not to hit the other person with it.

"Oh, I'm very sorry; I didn't mean to hit you." He apologized as he looked up at the man he bumped in to. He was a good head taller than him, with tanned, muscled skin and short, black hair with thick sideburns. He had a small beard on his chin, and his well-defined arms were covered in tribal tattoos. He wore faded jeans and a white, sleeveless shirt, but the only thing Kozmotis paid close attention to was the man's vibrant green eyes. Not waiting for a reply, Kozmotis excused himself and resumed his walk to his apartment. If the violinist had looked back, he would've noticed the man sniff the air he was once occupying, or the way his eyes had a reflective quality like a dog's when he stepped out of where he was and a car headlight hit his face. He would've heard the deep, sensuous rumble escape the man's throat or seen the way his lips curled into a dark smirk wide enough to show his sharp, elongated canines. Instead, Pitchiner continued on his way, too tired and eager to get home to notice he was being followed by the strange man. He made his way up to the second floor and into his apartment, unaware of the man staring at him from across the street. Walking into his home, Kozmotis pulled off his scarf and sweater and threw them onto the couch before making his way into his room. He placed his case down on the vanity with his sheet music before making his way to his drawers. As he pulled out his nightwear, he didn't hear or notice a figure land on his darkened balcony, or feel a set of eyes trail up and down his body as he pulled off his dress shirt and slacks and slipped into some lounge pants and a sleeveless shirt. After finishing his nightly routine, Pitchiner went to bed and fell asleep oblivious to the stalker he had just earned.

_Werewolves chose their mates by their scent; they had to secrete a certain combination of pheromones. To Aster, resident alpha werewolf, Pitchiner's pheromones smelled like honey, sunshine, and a warm summer day. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Here you go, guys... that's how much I love you... And this is really helping me get through my writer's block!**

**Warnings for this chapter: violence! and a bit of blood... and... yeah...**

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Two weeks had passed since Pitchiner had bumped into that man. Since then, he'd spotted him hanging outside of the nightclub as he would make his way home. Pitchiner would feel the man's eyes follow him as he'd walk by, and it took all of his self-restraint to stop himself from turning around and yelling at him. Pitchiner wasn't a fighter, though he had taken self-defense classes back in the day. It freaked him out, but the man never pursued him or said anything insulting, so he shrugged it off as best he could. The first couple of times, he saw the man on Saturday when he'd walk home from Treble Clef. Then it was Saturday and Monday. Then it was Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. It eventually came to him spotting the tattooed male almost every single day as he made his way home. At this point, Kozmotis began taking Main Street most of the week; something unnerved him about the man and he didn't know what. Kozmotis was not a superstitious man despite all the things his grandmother would tell him as a child, but he had a feeling in his gut that something bad was going to happen soon. He wanted to tell someone, and hope that they would either camp out with him in his apartment or let him stay at their home. But then he remembered how North would shrug things off, or how Sanderson would get extremely protective around him if something was the matter, and decided against it. Nothing bad happened yet, Pitchiner would tell himself every night as he walked down the street, and swore he heard another set of footsteps behind him. He was going to be fine; he was just being paranoid and it was all just a coincidence.

His grandmother would always tell him there was no such thing as coincidence.

It was a warm March night, so Kozmotis had decided not to wear a jacket or a scarf that day. Instead, the man was wearing only his white dress shirt and black slacks as he made his way back home from another night at the Treble Clef. Main Street was even more packed than usual, mostly having to do with the fact that it was Spring Break and most of the college students in town were procrastinating on their projects and celebrating their last two days of freedom. He let out an exhausted sigh before turning the corner and stepping into Monkshood Drive. Despite the hectic holiday weekend, the street was as lonely as ever, with only a couple of young women walking on the other side of the street and having a conversation. He picked up his pace and made his way down the sidewalk, oblivious to the way the two women paused and looked at him before darting into an alley. Pitchiner barely passed by The Poisoned Apple when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Pitchiner slowed down and stopped where he was before glancing around. The nightclub was strangely quiet, and the bouncers were nowhere to be found. Their neon light was still on, though he couldn't see any neon 'OPEN' signs anywhere around the entrance. Nobody else was around the building, not even that one man that would always stare at him. He bit his lip; something was not right here at all…

Kozmotis could almost hear his heart beat faster as he felt the throb echo in his ears. He resumed his walk home and dared not to look back. Making it back to his apartment in record time, Kozmotis entered his home quickly before locking the door. He sighed; all those rumors about missing people were starting to get to him. Kozmotis mumbled to himself before placing his violin case down with his music notes on the vanity before walking over to the drawers. He did his nightly rituals quickly before climbing into bed. The man said his prayers before tucking himself in and closing his eyes. Remembering his friend's advice on meditation, Kozmotis let his entire body relax. He went through all the steps, taking slow, steady breaths as his muscles finally started to rest. A small breeze passed by, and he hummed happily as it caressed his face. It took him a total of five seconds to realize that his windows and balcony door were closed when he went to bed.

Golden eyes shot open, and Kozmotis quickly pulled himself up into a sitting position. Looking around the darkened room, Kozmotis slowly stood up before making his way through the seemingly-normal room. Nothing was out of place, and there seemed to be nothing missing from his vanity or drawers. He walked over to the balcony door that was wide open and peeked outside. Nothing was on his balcony, and there was no rope or anything that would've helped someone climb up. He closed the door and placed the lock, wondering how or why it would open up by itself. His door had worked perfectly fine until now. Kozmotis turned to go back to bed, but stopped when he heard a low, dangerous growl coming from the shadows. He had absolutely no time to react as something large and hairy tackled him to the ground. He screamed in a mix of terror and pain as he struggled to get away from whatever was holding him down and digging its sharp, pointy claws into his arm and shoulder. Kozmotis tried to pull away from this thing's grasp, but only succeeded in digging the claws deeper into his skin. He whimpered, feeling the blood cascade down his skin and onto the carpet. Whatever was holding him down growled dangerously, and Pitchiner flinched when a cold, wet nose pressed itself to the side of his neck and began sniffing. He struggled more, desperately trying to pull away from its grasp, but another growl seemingly warned him to stop. Whatever was on top of him sounded like a dog, but the massive hands holding him down told him it was something else. Pitchiner felt the wet nose by his ear now, and the hands shifted so they held his wrists down by the sides of his head as much as he tried to pull away. A dark laugh escaped the thing's throat, and Pitchiner held back a whimper as a long, warm tongue slid down the side of his face and down to his neck.

"You're mine…" was all he heard before a strong set of sharp teeth latched themselves onto his shoulder.

_Sanderson Mansnoozie had gone to check on Kozmotis the next day to see if he could play later that day. Instead he found an empty apartment, a large bloodstain at the foot of his friend's bed, and the balcony door wide open._

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**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow...thanks for all the reviews and support, guys! This story's almost over, and I'm getting my schwerve on again!**

**if you've noticed, I've bumped up the rating... there's kind of a reason for that...**

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**"…_The wolfsong is the sound of the rending you will suffer, in itself a murdering." Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber._**

A loud, ominous howl echoed throughout the area, seemingly shaking the slumber off his body. Golden eyes snapped open, and Pitchiner shot straight up from the bed he was laying on. A whimper escaped his lips as a throbbing pain echoed from the shoulder that beast had bitten him. He placed his hand over it, furrowing his brows in confusion when he felt something wet and warm. Pitchiner pulled his hand away and looked at his shoulder, finding it to be wrapped up in blood-soaked bandages in the dark light. Glancing around the dimly-lit room, Pitchiner found it to be devoid of any windows, and the door was at the far end of the room. Whatever room he was in seemed to be empty of anything other than his bed. Deciding to investigate the place that monster had dragged him to, Pitchiner swung his legs over to the side of the bed, freezing when he heard a metal clinking sound and the feel of cold metal on his ankle and bare feet. Looking over, he found his ankle had been chained to the foot of the iron bed frame, which had oddly been nailed to the floor. At this point, Kozmotis began to panic; whatever that beast was planning was probably something bad and he needed to find a way out of this place quickly before he returned. He tried to stand up, but his shoulder was too damaged to hold his body weight. Kozmotis fell back onto the bed as he whimpered from the intense pain. For a second, he wondered if he could ever pick up a bow again to play his violin, but he shook the thought away and focused on sitting back up; survival was more important than his talent at this point. Using his left arm to support him, Kozmotis finally got back up to a sitting position. He glanced down at the blood-stained sheets before looking back up towards the door.

His breath hitched when he locked eyes with the man that had watched him all those weeks.

Kozmotis scooted back fearfully when the man walked closer, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder. His breaths grew shorter and quicker when his back hit the bed frame behind him. When the man was at the foot of the bed, he grabbed the chain and yanked on it, pulling him closer. He struggled, naturally, biting back a cry of pain when the other's hands clamped onto his shoulders and pressed him down onto the bed. Kozmotis struggled even more, feeling tears in his eyes as his wound felt as if it was being torn to shreds. A hand clamped down on his throat, trapping the scream of rage Kozmotis was going to release. The man bit his hand, and Pitchiner felt a drop of some type of liquid fall onto his arm. The hand on his throat moved down to his uninjured shoulder, but before he could react, the man captured his lips in a deep, powerful kiss. Pitchiner tried as hard as he could to pull away, but the other's tongue forced his mouth open and he tried not to gag when he tasted the blood and felt it run down his tongue and down into his throat. Pitchiner pressed a hand on the other's chest to push him away, but a low, dangerous growl stopped him from pushing any further. The man finally pulled away, and Pitchiner shuddered at the feeling of blood and saliva around his mouth. Feeling the other's hands slowly move up his shirt, Pitchiner shuddered in fear and disgust and began to move away. The other growled and kissed him again.

This time, however, Pitchiner responded eagerly and pulled him closer.

Warning bells should have sung out in his head, but every pleasure node in his body was on fire. His nerve endings sparked intensely with a strong urge he was unfamiliar with, but a simple touch from the man above him gave him such good shivers down his body. Pitchiner let out a loud, desperate moan when he felt those large, strong hands travel along his chest and stomach. His blood felt like lava in his veins, and the other's touches only added fuel to the fire. Something in his brain kept screaming that this was all wrong, that he should stop and push the man away, but his already-ruined night shirt was ripped off his body and tossed away like torn ribbons, easily pulling him away from such thoughts. Kisses were more frequent, caresses were heavier, and before he knew it, Pitchiner had given away the last of his purity to the monster that had taken him away. He was too exhausted to even mourn his life as he collapsed back onto the bed and fell into a deep slumber.

**_6 seeds_**

Kozmotis woke up to the sound of arguing. His golden eyes fluttered open, and the musician found himself in a totally different room. For one thing, it was larger and well-furnished, with the sun pouring through from a couple of windows on the side. The bed he was resting on was much softer and larger than the one he was in before. He didn't seem to be chained up anymore, if the lack of metal on his skin was any indication. Sitting up, Kozmotis found that his shoulder didn't hurt anymore, but groaned when he felt a strong ache throughout his body. Looking down, the musician found he was naked and instinctively pulled the sheets closer to him. The arguing voices grew louder and Kozmotis scooted back and pressed himself against the wooden bed frame. He jumped when the door practically slammed open, and looked on in confusion when Sanderson walked in.

"S-Sandy?! What are you… what's going on?" He asked, hugging the bed sheets closer to him.

"Come," Sanderson replied neutrally, though Pitchiner could tell he was trying his best to calm down. "Let's get you home." An angry growl echoed from the door frame, and Pitchiner watched the green-eyed man storm in and snarl at his friend.

"You can't take him from me! I have chosen him as my mate!"

"He can't be your mate, Aster!" Sanderson retaliated. His usually well-kept blonde hair was starting to fall from its usual place. "You know the rules; we aren't allowed to mingle with humans. If we do, we have to go for the ones that won't be missed!" Aster roared in anger, face contorting into something more lupine.

"I have already marked him as my own, Sanderson! He's tasted my blood!" Kozmotis felt something cold in his stomach when his friend's warm, amber eyes widened in shock and fear. He watched as the pastry chef's mouth contorted into something more animal-like as he scowled and narrowed his eyes into a glare.

"You didn't…" Aster smirked darkly.

"Ask him yourself~" Sanderson made his way over to the bed, gently taking Pitchiner by the shoulders and looking him in the eye.

"Kozmotis… Tell me you didn't… Please… tell me you didn't taste his blood!" Pitchiner looked up at his friend fearfully, shuddering when Sanderson's irises elongated like those of a cat's.

"I did…"

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**Thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright... second-to last chapter of this fic! Woo~**

**Warnings; blood, a bit of gore, implied smexing, and Jack Frost being an idiot...**

**Whoever gets what werewolf movie I'm referrencing in here gets kudos~**

**And Jack Frost plays the cello... it's the wood he's referring to at the end of this chapter...**

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The change that took over his body was Hell, for lack of a better term.

With Sanderson's help, Kozmotis had requested a week and a half off from teaching at the community college. He couldn't help but mourn as the sick days he'd been saving up for a vacation be used for this sickness he was going through. He was incredibly grateful the Head of the Music Department was very lenient and knew him well. At Aster's insistence, he moved into the werewolf's home for the allotted time to have someone look after him during his transformation. Kozmotis didn't like to be babied, but since this was something that could be potentially dangerous to society, he was okay with being under temporary house arrest. Aster's house wasn't so bad; it was a rather large cabin in the wooded area of Burgess and a few miles outside city limits. Kozmotis packed a few belongings with him; the werewolf had told him to pack old clothes he didn't care much for, and that frightened him a little. When he stepped into the cabin, he felt like he was stepping into a penitentiary.

_The first sign of change was blood. _

Granted, if it was a bloody nose every five hours, or maybe if he was a woman, he would be alright with it. Instead, he was born a man, and for a day and a half, he bled heavily. As stated before, if he was a woman, bleeding from his privates probably wouldn't have been so bad. Instead, he was curled up on the bed, holding onto his aching stomach as he felt warm, thick blood ooze out of his urethra. It was disgusting and sent horrible shudders down his spine, and he wanted to gag when some of the blood was coagulated. His back hurt, his abdomen hurt, even his prostate hurt… or at least he _thought_ it was his prostate… he really didn't know… all he was certain of was that he had a new profound sympathy for women everywhere. He also craved chocolate; specifically dark chocolate with almonds. Aster was happy to provide for him, but abhorred the sudden mood swings Kozmotis seemed to suffer. It was the longest day and a half of his life. The second night, he happily went to bed, ecstatic over the fact he didn't have to sleep a certain way or wear any more menstruation pads (they were a lifesaver). As he fell asleep, he felt Aster lift the white tank he used as a pajama top up until his shoulder blades and cursed something under his breath. He moaned softly and turned onto his side, giving the man the hint to let him sleep. If he had stayed awake longer, he would've heard Aster complain about the change happening faster than he thought, or hearing something about his spine.

_The ancients believed that pure metals purified the blood, and would use them in jewelry or piercings. _

Pitchiner had taken a walk outside in the forest the next night. He had overheard a conversation between Sanderson and Aster about confining him in the cabin due to his transformation happening quicker than expected, so he decided to enjoy one more night of freedom before being locked up. Kozmotis had worn a small jacket and some old jeans for his walk, and he planned to just walk a few yards around the perimeter of the house before sitting on the porch and watching the night sky. Then he spotted a young deer, and something took over his mind for the following hour. Once he regained his senses, Kozmotis found himself somewhere far away from the cabin covered in blood and kneeling next to a hollowed-out deer carcass. He ran back to the cabin with a speed he didn't even know he hand, ignoring Aster's angry and relieved expression as he pushed him aside and ran into the bathroom.

"The bloody 'ell were you!?" He snarled as he stepped into the bathroom. Kozmotis didn't respond; instead he retched and began to vomit in the toilet. Aster's eyes widened when he spotted the blood on the man's face, hands, jacket, and in the toilet bowl.

"…Kozzy… Mate… what did you do?" Kozmotis whimpered, looking up at him with the saddest, golden eyes the werewolf had ever seen before vomiting again.

"Went… out for a… walk…" He replied weakly. "Saw… a deer… something… took over me-"The man threw up again, and Aster knelt down by his side, rubbing his back in a soothing manner.

"It's alright, love… It's your animal instinct that took over…" Kozmotis retched one more time, before his stomach had finally settled. "Unless you know how to control that voice in yer' head or ya got some silver on ya, yer' gonna have to be locked up for a month while we train ya…"

"But… I have _friends_! _Two _jobs! They're going to notice I'm _missing_!" he cried out desperately. Aster sighed, helping the man to his feet.

"That's why I'm gonna help you control that voice… and silver's a good help, too…" Pitchiner sighed and let himself be cleaned up before changing into his nightwear and going to his room. At some point during his vomiting session, Sanderson had come along to check on him. The blonde was currently holding a 14-gauge piercing needle over a flame as Pitchiner held an ice cube over the skin just above his navel.

"You know…" he stated, glancing up at the ceiling with skeptical golden eyes, "I highly doubt a silver belly ring is going to do me any good…" Sanderson smiled a little as he looked up.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but silver going through your bloodstream actually helps with the transformation…" He stuck his tongue out and rolled it up, revealing a silver loop on the flap underneath. "This baby helped me throughout my transformation during high school…" Pitchiner sighed.

"Do I really need it on my navel?" he whined. Sanderson nodded.

"Unfortunately… We can't pierce your eyebrows, ears, nose, lips, or tongue because you're a professional and want to keep a clean look, and you looked absolutely livid when Aster recommended getting a nipple piercing…" Pitchiner shuddered. "So… the last thing to pierce is your midriff…" He lifted the needle away from the flame and inspected it before walking over and straddling the other's hips. "You ready?" Kozmotis nodded nervously before tossing the ice cube into the small bowl on the nightstand and grabbing the bed frame.

"Yes… now hurry up before I change my mind…" Sanderson didn't reply; instead he pinched some skin between his fingers and drove the needle in. Pitchiner bit back a scream as he arched his back from the pain; he didn't know how teenagers could do this so easily. He vaguely heard the other say something about the needle being stuck as his nails began to dig into the oak frame. Pitchiner almost sighed in relief when the needle was slid out, only to flinch when a silver hoop was slid inside in its place. He relaxed, moaning in exhaustion when he felt the skin being dabbed by a cotton ball wet with after-care liquid.

"You alright there, Kozzy?" Sanderson asked casually, ignoring the pointed glare from his friend. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a stripper about to regret getting her navel pierced two weeks later…" The blonde only chuckled in response. As much as he hated to admit it, the sliver piercing helped quell down that animalistic urge in the back of his mind.

_Full Moon_

The next three days came with more changes and more pain. Every morning the musician had to file his nails down to look normal, and each morning he had to change the thickness of the file. Aster said his nails were becoming more like claws, and if Pitchiner didn't know him by now, he would've called it total bullshit. His canine teeth were also getting sharper, but fortunately, the teeth didn't need to be filed down since they looked almost normal. His cravings became more animalistic; he used to prefer his steaks well done before he was infected. Nowadays he preferred it medium-rare. Though he still held a love for carrots and celery, anything leafy was turned down in a heartbeat. His eyesight became ten times better than before, especially at night. Hell, all of his senses became that much better since the change had started. The worst part had been over, he realized, and that left him with four more days under lockdown. Most people would have spent their last four days of vacation lounging around, or going to town and watching a movie. But Pitchiner was a lycanthrope now, and his hormones were rather unbalanced until the cycle of change was over. This unbalance left his nerves extremely sensitive to any touch, and the musician found himself yearning for a certain type of touch Aster was more than willing to provide.

Kozmotis sighed happily as he curled up next to the larger male. His body, though exhausted and weak from their last round, had finally calmed down from the intense heat his nerves had broadcasted for an hour. He felt Aster's hand trail down his back, and the musician moaned softly at the touch. He didn't know if it was the sudden shift in his hormones from the change, or the animalistic side of his mind, or even if it was Aster himself, but the sex was amazing beyond compare. He didn't know when he stopped being so cautious when it came to intimacy, but the way Aster handled him made up for his lack of self-restraint.

"Your hormones have finally settled…"He heard the other mutter as he placed his head on his shoulder. "You sure you'll be alright going to work tomorrow?" Pitchiner nodded sleepily, purring when he felt Aster's fingers toy with the ring on his stomach.

"I'll be fine… Sanderson will be around if I need anything… Besides, I need to get back to teaching and playing… a week and a half without my violin's starting to get to me…"The rest of the night was filled with meaningless conversation and much-needed sleep. The next day, Kozmotis Pitchiner woke up early, did his morning ritual, put on his normal attire, and went to the University to teach his morning class. Along the way, he noticed the way many students, teachers, and even the campus security guards would stare at him. If it were any other circumstance or day, the musician would have preened and loved the attention he was getting. Instead in unnerved him; he didn't want to have this problem at his class.

Unfortunately for him, Life was a sarcastic bitch.

"Jackson Overland-Frost, for the last time, you hold the strings like _this_." He stated, hovering over the white-haired male and moving his arms in the correct position. Jack swallowed and nodded dumbly, and Pitchiner held back a growl when he smelled the torrent of hormones coming from the young man.

"Is there anything else you need help with?" Pitchiner asked in the calmest voice he could muster.

"Y-yeah, uh… can… can I put my wood between your legs-wait, no! _Augh_! I'm sorry, that's not what I meant! _UGH_!" Pitchiner rubbed his eyes and sighed. Aster _REALLY_ should have told him about the heightened sex appeal that came with the change…

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**Thoughts? Critiques?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Last Chapter!... okay, not really...;**

**I just want to thank all of you lovely reviewers who supported me here...**

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The first week Pitchiner went back to classes was an absolute nightmare. His star pupil-going-on-Teacher's assistant Jack kept on spewing innuendos left and right like a hormonal preteen, other students would mutter something about his figure when his back was turned to the board (heightened hearing had become a curse), and whenever he was on break or had his office hours, students would try to shamelessly flirt with him. Granted, they weren't as bad as the other professors, who kept pestering him to ditch a class to go out for a bite or a drink. It didn't get easier at home, either. Aster could smell all the students and faculty members that had at one point touched him, and it would piss him off. Pitchiner quickly realized that werewolves were extremely territorial when it came to their mates. They argued to the point where Pitchiner actually screamed at him, and he never screamed at anyone in his entire life save for his ex-girlfriend. But she had it coming… Friday was when Aster hit his boiling point, and as soon as Pitchiner stepped into the cabin and dropped his things on the sofa, the green-eyed lycanthrope pinned him harshly against the wall and growled lowly. The musician struggled against his grasp and tried to escape, but Aster pressed his lips against the crook of his neck. At once, Pitchiner melted and purred as the other began to trail kisses along his neck and jaw line before capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. One ruined couch later, Pitchiner laid back, chest heaving up and down in exhaustion as Aster pulled him close and buried his face in his neck.

"You… you have… got to be… kidding me…"Kozmotis could barely say as he tried to shake the numbness off his legs. He blew away a piece of suede that once consisted of the upholstery of the couch as the other werewolf chuckled and placed a kiss on his shoulder.

"What can I say, love? It's the only way to assert our claim…"He purred, gently rubbing the other's hip bone with his thumb. Kozmotis bit back a moan.

"Stop…" he tried to demand, but ultimately sounding sensual. "I don't think I can do another round…" It turned out he was wrong. Not only could he go another round, he actually could go ten more… Needless to say, Aster pampered him the next day with breakfast in bed and a candle-lit dinner on the back porch with his favorite merlot wine.

_Beware of men whose eyebrows meet_

News of Professor Nitelite's sudden departure was rather shocking to Kozmotis. The man had been teaching for over twenty years, and not once did the man ever hint at retiring any time soon. He also found it strange that the man had left in the middle of the spring semester, which was practically unheard of in the teaching world unless certain circumstances applied. The man that was supposed to replace Nitelite was just a few years older than him, with peppered hair, thick eyebrows, and a black, neatly trimmed beard that complimented his pale skin. He also had these striking yellow eyes that unnerved him for some reason. His name was Devin Fearling, and every time he'd pass by the man in the hall or out on campus on the way to class, the man was always sure to speak to him and stare for a while until they went their separate ways. Not only that, but whenever Pitchiner was on break, Devin would always slink into his office and converse with him. Normally, Kozmotis would be alright with socializing with new faculty members or just anyone in general. But there was something off about the man that he couldn't quite put his finger on; it was a gut feeling that he couldn't quite understand.

Kozmotis quickly walked into the cabin and made a beeline for his and Aster's room. He carefully placed his violin in the corner with his sheet music before tossing his bag in the corner and dropping himself on the bed. A few minutes later, Aster came walking in, tossing his dusty jacket into the hamper before crawling into bed next to him.

"You alright love?" He asked gently, placing a kiss on the scarred shoulder. Kozmotis sighed and wanted to respond, but a dangerous growl emerged from the other's throat. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Kozmotis turned around and looked up at Aster.

"Aster? Are you alright?" the other narrowed his emerald eyes in anger as he sniffed at him again. He growled louder this time and began to unbutton his shirt. Kozmotis gasped and grabbed Aster's wrists, stopping his actions.

"What are you doing?!" His protest was silenced by a desperate kiss. He moaned when Aster's hands started to rub his chest and stomach. Regaining his senses, Kozmotis pulled away from the kiss and gripped the other's hands tighter.

"Aster! What is wrong?"

"I smell another werewolf on you, love…" The musician felt his blood run cold; the only person he'd been in close contact with that day was the new music teacher.

"A-are you s-sure?" Aster nodded stiffly.

"Yes, and if this drongo knows what's good for 'im, he's gonna stop getting close to ya… I'll kill him before he steals you from me…" He added, growling dangerously. Kozmotis sighed sadly, placing a hand on Aster's cheek. The werewolf calmed down and nuzzled his hand gently.

"You're not going to lose me… We just need to be very careful-"A vibrating noise pulled him away from the moment, and Kozmotis sat up to grab his phone on the night stand. He opened the text from Jack and arched a brow at the odd request to meet him in the woods close by.

"What is it, love?" Aster questioned, placing a small kiss on his neck.

"My student wants to see me… I'll be right back…" Straightening himself out, Pitchiner went on his way into the wooded area just a few yards away from the cabin. In little time, he made it to a small clearing used for camping and found the white-haired boy in his usual blue hoodie and brown pants, looking around curiously. He called out to him, and Jack happily made his way over to his teacher.

"It's about time, Professor!" Jack whined, rubbing his arms as a cold wind blew past them. "So…what did you want to talk to me about here that we couldn't do in a coffee shop? Those places are much warmer-

"Wait…" Pitchiner interrupted, placing a finger over Jack's lips to silence him. Jack complied. "What do you mean what I want to talk about? I got a text from you saying that you wanted to meet up here." At the white-haired boy's look of confusion, Pitchiner had a feeling this was all some type of elaborate trap.

"But… I… You texted me, didn't you?" Before Pitchiner could respond, a nasty snarl was heard, and in the blink of an eye, Jack had been dragged away into the wilderness screaming in terror and pain. Something snapped in the musician's brain, and Pitchiner was running with inhuman speed at whatever was dragging his student through the forest. He skidded to a halt when he found himself in a smaller clearing and spotted the black, yellow-eyed werewolf pinning a whimpering Jack to the ground. Pitchiner growled lowly, and he suddenly realized his facial features had a more lupine appearance to them.

"Let him go." He demanded. His voice had become deeper due to the partial transformation. The werewolf narrowed his yellow eyes before a dark laughter erupted from its throat.

"So… you're the human Aster Bunnymund decided to mate with? I must say, he has excellent taste~" Pitchiner narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you? And why do you want Jack?" The werewolf shifted his stance so he was on two legs, holding Jack against him and keeping his claws against the boy's throat.

"Oh, come now, Kozmotis… I'm sure you recognize me~" Pitchiner felt hair begin to grow on his pointed ears.

"Devin Fearling… I should've known… Let Jack go, now!"Devin sighed and shook his head, tightening his grip on the boy.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, dear." He mocked, "You see… I want something, and unless I get it, I'm going to rip that pretty white neck of his!" Devin mocked gleefully as he scratched at Jack's neck as an example. Jack whimpered loudly, and Pitchiner almost lost it.

"What do you want then?! " He snarled, wincing slightly when his claws started to grow longer. Devin smirked darkly.

"What I want is you as my mate, dear… " Kozmotis felt his stomach grow cold as the werewolf continued. "You see… you have all the right curves and the perfect scent." Kozmotis narrowed his eyes, keeping his glee a secret when he sensed his mate nearby.

"I decline; what else may I offer for my student?" Devin roared angrily before sinking his fangs into Jack's arm. The white-haired teen screamed in agony, falling to the ground when something crashed into the werewolf holding him captive. Pitchiner ran over to his fallen student, features returning to a more human appearance as he cradled Jack's head in his lap.

"Jack? Jack, look at me, you're going to be alright…" He whispered, ignoring the roar that came from Sanderson as the werelion joined the battle to help Aster. He felt Jack shudder as his whimpers seemed to never end.

"Give him your blood!" Pitchiner's head snapped up when he heard Aster's voice yell at him.

"What?!" There was no way he was going to give his student his blood if it meant he was going to make him sensitive.

"My blood was different!" Aster retaliated, carefully dodging the other werewolf as Sanderson clawed at him. "I was in heat! Yours is fine! Give him your blood or he'll die!" The last sentence struck him hard; there was no way he was going to let his favorite student die of blood loss. Reaching for the pocket knife he knew Jack always carried on his person, Kozmotis braced himself before cutting his wrist.

"Jack… Trust me on this… you're going to be fine… as… as long as you drink this…" Not waiting for the boy to respond, Kozmotis forced his mouth open before pressing his wound to it. Jack struggled for the first few seconds despite his severe injuries, but the blood seemed to do its job, and soon the white-haired teen's wounds had started to heal quickly. Jack, finally regaining some strength, pulled away from his teacher's arm and licked some blood off his lips. With some help from Pitchiner, Jack sat up and looked over at his teacher. Pitchiner looked at him with guilty, worried eyes, wondering if Jack was going to run away or hate him. Instead, he was surprised when he was suddenly pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Hearing Jack's sobs instantly made Pitchiner hook his arms around the teen and hold him close, smiling when he heard the last two words he muttered that night before passing out.

"Thank you."

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**Thoughts?**

**Also, if anyone wants to do spin-offs of this, you all have my permission~ just as long as you give credit ^^**


	6. Chapter 6: Epilogue

**Final chapter, everyone! It's been fun, you know.. and I want you all to know that I'm so thankful for all your reviews and comments! They always brighten up my day~ **

**It's funny, really... this story was supposed to go a totally different route than the one it took... Oh well, I still love it~**

**Warnings for this chapter: HiJack hints... oh yeah... I went there~ (for those who don't know, it's Jack FrostxHiccup from How to Train Your Dragon)**

**Fact: Hrafn means Raven in Scandinavian... or was it Swedish... damn... I forgot...**

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**EPILOGUE:**

Hrafn "Hiccup" Haddock was your typical art student. He was a skinny, fair skinned young man that was around five foot eight and weighed less than 150 pounds. He was an art education major with his locker overstuffed with large drawing pads and canvases, and hefting around said pads and canvases, along with his toolbox full of supplies, all around campus. With shaggy brown hair that fell over his emerald eyes, thick black-framed glasses that were perched over his freckled nose, and the vintage-like clothing he'd usually wear, the young man was often labeled as a hipster. He looked even more like one when he held a cup of coffee or iced mocha. Hiccup never cared much for labels; all he wanted was to get his degree and teach art class in high school while helping his father manage the bar and grill-type restaurant he had owned and operated for over twelve years now. Stoick Haddock was a retired military general who co-managed it with his lifelong friend Gobber. His mother had died shortly after childbirth, and so Hiccup had been raised by his father and godfather as they built and raised their restaurant from the ground. Over time, the bar and grill had become extremely popular, mostly due to the fact it was in a popular area of town. And though his father almost always forced him to close on weekends, Hiccup loved working in there every second. He shook himself out of his musings as he made his way up the steps to the Arts building, ignoring the stares from some of the other students as his black cat, Toothless, was riding in the hood of his forest green hoodie. The black feline had become overly attached to the male after being rescued as a kitten. There was also the obvious fact that Toothless was his Familiar, but that was beside the point. He had managed to get permission from the University to take his cat with him to class, seeing as his father had conjured up some documents claiming the cat was a specially trained assisting animal for his son. Hiccup made his way through the hallway as swiftly as he could, making sure not to hit anyone with the large portfolio he was carrying on his shoulder. Finally arriving at his locker, Hiccup dropped the heavy items and opened the locker, stuffing the things he didn't need into the tiny space and taking the things he did. Toothless meowed, pawing softly at his ears as Hiccup stuffed his large watercolor pad into his locker.

"I know, Toothless… We're going home as soon as I put all my stuff away. I promise I'll feed you some fish as soon as we get there, alright?" the cat meowed again before settling back down. Once he packed up his things, the Scandinavian locked up his locker and made his way out. The Dragon's Den, his father's bar and grill, was on the entertainment street close to the university. Hiccup always went there after classes, since he would usually be put to work if he didn't have any homework. Walking down the hallway, he noticed the main entrance was blocked off due to some exhibit the art department was holding later that evening, so Hiccup had to make his way through the music department to get out of the building. Along the way, he passed by Pitchiner's office. He furrowed his brows in worry as he felt Toothless tense up slightly. Werewolves were starting to grow in numbers recently, and his father was starting to worry about his safety. Though he trusted Sanderson to keep everyone in check, as well as Pitchiner since he'd had a clean record since he'd been turned, the growing population of supernatural creatures was slowly becoming a great concern for the safety of normal humans. Hearing an irritated voice from the office, Hiccup looked on indifferently as Kozmotis Pitchiner left his office in a hurry with his violin. Turning, he spotted yet another music professor wallowing in misery from a rejection. Hiccup rolled his eyes; the poor musician still couldn't quite control his pheromones. Feeling a paw on his ear, the male continued his quest for an exit, smiling when he finally found it. As he walked out the door, he almost stopped in his tracks as a certain teacher's assistant began to make his way towards him. He felt Toothless' paws on his shoulder as the cat arched his back and hissed lowly in a threatening manner. Hiccup could smell the pheromones rolling off the white-haired male like ocean waves; he couldn't help but grimace at the musky scent. Not only that, but the way the male held himself, with his bow resting on his shoulder and his lips curled up into a confident smirk made Hiccup believe the guy was a Grade A prick. Hiccup quickly glanced ahead and resumed his walk towards work. Hearing a low whistle coming from the other male, the brunet bit back a groan as the white-haired male slowly walked over towards him.

"Haven't seen you around here; you lost?" Hiccup's eyebrow twitched in irritation.

"The Main entrance in the Art department was blocked… had to go this way…" The other rubbed his chin in thought, and the brunet was very tempted to punch him in the face.

"Hmm… that explains the portfolio…" Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and it's heavy as hell, so if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting home…" He growled as he began to walk away. A blue-clothed arm suddenly shot out in front of him, stopping him. He sighed.

"Whoa, wait! What's your name?" the white-haired lycanthrope asked.

"Just call me Hiccup…" Toothless hissed when the other snickered.

"Seriously?" Hiccup nodded calmly.

"Yes… because Americans can't pronounce Scandinavian names to save their lives…" He retorted, smirking a little when he heard his cat's quiet snickers. The lycanthrope narrowed his blue eyes into an annoyed glare.

"I bet I can pronounce it!"

"My real name's Hrafn." His smirk widened at the other's baffled look.

"Uh…what?"

"My name… It's Hrafn."

"Uh…. My name's Jack… "Without another word, Hiccup left the white-haired male trying to pronounce his name correctly. He reached up and scratched Toothless behind the ear, earning a satisfied purr. Sensing the other begin to follow him, Hiccup picked up the pace and darted to an alley he always used to get home faster. Making sure no one was looking; he pulled out a piece of white chalk from his pocket and drew some type of circle with strange symbols around it. Placing his hand in the center, he muttered a few Latin words, and disappeared in a flash of light. When he opened his eyes again, Hiccup found himself in the alley behind his father's restaurant. Pulling a key from his pocket, he swiftly unlocked the back door and made his way inside. Gobber looked up from the stew pot he was stirring and arched a brow.

"Hiccup! You're home a bit early today!" He smiled at his godfather before setting his things on the table at the corner.

"Yeah… I took 'the shortcut.' It was a long day…" He replied as Toothless gracefully hopped off his shoulders and walked over towards his cat bed.

"I understand, lad… I suggest you take a quick shower before your father smells that lycanthrope on ya." Gobber said as he took a sip of the stew. Hiccup groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I tried to avoid him, but the bastard wouldn't leave me alone… Hopefully, my giving him the cold shoulder gave him the hint to leave me alone…" He growled, making Gobber laugh heartily.

"My boy, that mutt better know not to mess with witches; we'll mess him up real good if he does!"

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, if anyone is interested in continuing this or writing spin-offs, you are all more than welcome! Just give me a heads up!**


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